


The Fugitive

by ionlyjoinedforfanfic



Category: The Fugitive (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Description of guns, Descriptions of Blood, F/M, Guns, Injury, Murder, One Night Stands, Sexual Content, Violent Crime, reference to police and prison systems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27101152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionlyjoinedforfanfic/pseuds/ionlyjoinedforfanfic
Summary: Mike Ferro (Boyd Holbrook) is hot shot detective in LAPD's Major Crimes Unit - a workaholic who has acquired high standing and respect at the expense of relationships and personal life. Bryce Clayton (OFC) is whip smart with a bright future that was until she was imprisoned for a crime she did not commit. Having spent 5 years in prison she is trying to rebuild her life yet fate brings Mike into her life in more ways than one.
Relationships: Michelangelo Ferro/OFC, Michelangelo Ferro/Original Character, Mike Ferro/OFC, Mike Ferro/Original Character





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after being released from prison Bryce is trying to rebuild her life but it is more difficult than she thought. After losing her job she drowns her sorrows and meets a charming and handsome Mike.

"Bryce you needed that job. Y'know I'm going to have to disclose this. Put in a change of status report." Kevin looked frustrated and concerned in equal measure. He was a good parole officer and a good man - firm but fair, by the book.

"I know. I know. I'll fix it, get something soon."

"You thought about talking to your buddies down in financial district?"

Bryce shook her head, "I'm done with that. I'm not going to beg and trust me they wouldn’t be interested anyway."

Kevin shrugged, "Just a thought. Conditions of your release state you need a job or -"

"Or I go back to prison. Thanks, I'm fully aware." She placed friendly hand on his shoulder. "Kev, don't worry I'll find a job."

"You want to come for dinner? Ronnie will be happy to see you." Though her PO, Kevin and his wife were one of the few people she could count as friends. He had gone above and beyond his role and genuinely cared about her.

"Another time. To celebrate my new job!"

\---X---

Despite her protests to Kevin, Bryce felt dejected. She was the best worker Mr Henderson had had for years, he had said as much himself - overqualified for the role, completing tasks that far exceed the measly salary he paid her. But it was work, something she enjoyed and was good at and that was a luxury in her position. If she'd have just kept her mouth shut - she was in the right, but it didn't matter, as soon as the client figured out who she was he had the upper hand. She should have just bumped it up Mr Henderson straight away, what the client was asking was illegal – yes, a minor infraction, but not worth going back to prison for. And she had no doubt that she would be the one who would take the fall if anyone found out. Henderson was sympathetic but his hands were tied, the company had a reputation and the customer always came first.

Bryce found herself at a bar, she didn't want to go home. She couldn't face her family, she already felt pathetic that she lived in her sister's spare room. And though Addison couldn't be more supportive she knew that she was intruding on their time. No longer cool Auntie Bry, she was a stranger, a murderer. She sat on the barstool and took a gulp of her wine - cold and crisp. She should nurse it really - needed to save money and she was always a lightweight even when alcohol was a regular part of her social routine. Fuck it. She was going to throw caution to the wind, she had always been so careful and where had it gotten her? Five years in prison. That's where.

The place was only half full, plenty of space at bar and tables - the kind of place people met for after work drinks or for a date. She could have hidden away in a booth, but she decided the bar was the better option as she had a good view of the TV that was showing the game. There was no sound and it was hardly a big screen - not a sports bar just there for people to check the score as ordered their drinks. But it was clear enough for her to focus her attention, distract her from some of the worries of the day. Draining the glass as she caught the bartender's eye, pointed to it for a refill.

"You too huh?" The deep, gruff voice to her left, she turned in her seat to face its source.

A man, broad and tall, his legs reaching floor as he perched on the high stool. He had blond hair, and slightly darker scruff that covered his jaw. Blue eyes that seemed to sparkle when accompanied by the smile he now offered. "Had a bad day?" He gestured to Bryce's glass that was being filled, before lifting his own in request for more of the amber liquid he was consuming.

"No idea." Bryce feigned a smile in return, before turning back to face the screen.

"Let me guess, work?" She didn't intend to, but the frustrations of the day caused her to shoot a glare at the stranger. "Sorry. Sorry. I let you get back to it. Just know the feeling."

Bryce looked him up and down - he wore a dark grey suit, wrinkled from the day, a white shirt unbuttoned at the top, tie long discarded. He looked like she felt. A pang of guilt hit, she had and awful day and by the looks of it so had he, she didn't need to be rude.

"It's okay." Her expression relaxing, "Work yes but I do not want to talk about it." Letting out huffed laughter, smiling as she spoke to make clear her frustrations were not aimed at him.

He chuckled, "No work, agreed. I'm Mike." He offered her his hand. She took it. The large, tanned mitt enclosed her own, calloused but warm.

"Bryce. Nice to meet you."

"So, you a Dodgers' fan?"

"Erm not really, just find it soothing."

He let out a loud laugh, "Definitely not a fan. They're crucifying us."

"So, is that the reason for your bad day?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But it sure ain't helpin."

He was handsome and pretty charming; Bryce had forgotten what it was like for a guy to flirt. She forgot that the tingling butterflies that the slightest look could cause. Though she found herself questioning if that what this was - was he trying to pick her up or was this just a friendly chat? God, it had been so long, but there was a smile and no wedding ring. She decided it didn't matter, chatting with an attractive man was a good distraction from the day, better than baseball at least.

They flirted for a while, through a third drink though he asked for a beer rather than a short. She was relaxed, earlier nerves forgotten, he wasn't surprised at her initial hesitation, why wouldn't she be, a strange man sparking a conversation in a bar. Now chatter between the pair flowed easily - opinions on sport and music and films. Things that helped you get to know a person's interest but not their lives. True to his word he never mentioned anything work related but also avoided family and other personal details - anything that could be the source of worry. Maybe it should have raised alarms that he could easily avoid them, but then she'd be a hypocrite. She didn't want to talk about her past, didn't want it to taint their connection, or ruin the fun she was having. She hadn't had fun for so long, she missed it - being carefree and happy.

He finished his drink, "I think that's my last." Bryce heart dropped a little with disappointment. "You wanna go grab something to eat?"

She smiled wanting to agree but faltered not sure if bank balance could take it - though savings aren't worth much in prison.

"My treat."

"No, I couldn't."

"C'mon I'm offering. I know a place not far. We can walk."

30 minutes later they found themselves sat another counter on the street - the late evening air still warm as they ate pizza by the slice. It was endearing that he brought her to this humble place. Made her like him more. Mike removed his jacket, rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbow, strong and toned, Bryce’s mind wondering what was underneath the rest of his clothes, causing her to blush. But mostly she laughed - they started talking about food but that led to a funny story about some teenage prank involving a delivery driver and a duck. Mike was working hard to cheer her up, the more he made her laugh the lighter he himself felt. And she was pretty - beautiful actually and it seemed a tragedy to let her sit alone, frowning at that bar. It seemed as if fate had brought them together. Both sat feeling happier than a few hours ago as if they had known each other years. And both would be lying if they said they wanted the night to end.

\---X--- 

Mike's apartment was nice, neat - a large shelving unit took up most of the wall of the dining space as you entered though Bryce had little opportunity to look at it currently fumbling to undress herself and Mike whilst making out on his large couch. His beard scraped against the sensitive flesh of her breasts, still mostly covered by her bra his fingers hooked over material to expose more. His mouth sucked a nipple whilst his hand palmed the other, eliciting a lusty mewl. She ran her fingers through his messy hair pressing his head closer to her whilst bucking her hips up to meet his, which ground down into her. She could feel his growing erection next to her core - throbbing and wet with need and desire.

"You want to take this to bedroom?" Mike half muttered into her skin. There was a slight hesitation that didn't go unnoticed, caused Mike to lift his head and look in her eyes. “We don't have to?"

"No, no I want to just, it's just been a while."

It drew a smile from him, "Tell me about it. But just like riding a bike." Mike's hand cupped behind her head, fingers entangled in her hair as his pulled her to kiss his lips. He stood up and offered his hand, led her further into the apartment to his bedroom.

\---X--- 

It had been sometime since both Mike and Bryce had woken in someone's arms. They stayed quietly entwined in the weak morning light not wanted to break the intimacy they both yearned for. The feeling that one word would shatter the spell that brought them together and replace it with awkwardness and insecurity. Bryce liked the heaviness of his long, muscular arms which wrapped around her, felt safe and protected and wanted to live in the illusion a little longer. Mike enjoyed the softness of her flesh next to his, reminded him of the tender femininity that stirred feelings deep within, the smell of her hair as he nuzzled into the nape of her neck. Yet the magic couldn't last and too soon their fairy-tale was interrupted by the harsh beeping of Mike's alarm.

Her offered her the bathroom first whilst he assembled some sort of breakfast, a meagre feast of toast and coffee but at least she would know that he wasn't au fait with picking up women in bars. She smiled as she emerged, clothing creased from it being scattered across his floor but still as pretty as when he first saw her in the bar. He left her to eat so he could shower.

She sipped some coffee, strong and hot, grabbed some toast and found herself exploring his living area, drawn instantly to the large shelving unit that dominated the wall and housed most of his possessions. She smiled as she saw Mike as a boy standing proudly between she assumed his parents. A signed baseball (he did say he was a fan). Books and a whole shelf given over to vinyl records - a quick flick through and she recognised the titles he’d mentioned the previous evening. A photo of him in uniform - dark blue, a peaked hat, a silver badge that she could now see proudly on his belt as he emerged clean and dressed.

"You're a cop?"

He chuckled at her expression, "Yeah. God is it that bad?"

"No. It's fine." Bryce offered a polite smile trying to cover her emotions, a lump in her throat and her face beginning to burn.

"C'mon I'll give you a ride home."

She tried to decline but couldn't think of an excuse. The drive was uncomfortable and silent bar the radio and local traffic news, nothing like the previous evening when conversation was so breezy - before they knew anything of each other. Mike wasn't a fool, he was a cop, a detective and a good one, not that he needed to be to notice the change. He liked her so much, wanted to see her again and wasn't sure what he had done to cause her to be so cold.

"Can I have your number?"

"Erm give me yours." He did though he doubted she would call.

With a pang of disappointment, he said, "I had a really good time." Before leaning over to kiss her cheek, hoping it wasn't a final goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryce finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dealing with tragedy and fighting against prejudices from both sides, she is forced to make a drastic decision.

Mike sat in the car and dragged his hand down over his face, he needed to get in the game, get his head together and stop thinking about her. It had been two days since she stayed over at his place and regretfully, but not completely unexpected, she hadn't called. He didn't understand, they had gotten on so well, well enough that she agreed to go back to his place. And the sex was good. Sure, it had been while but the way her body reacted to his touch was undeniable. That or she must be a hell of an actress. Or maybe he was just wrong - she was just looking for physical release and nothing more. It was a shame, he thought they had something. Mike wasn't particularly romantic, though he had his moments, he didn't really believe in love at first sight, but their connection seemed so real. Maybe he just wanted there to be something so badly he projected, saw something that wasn't there. He needed to forget about it, no he needed to move past it - take it for a great evening and that was all. Yet she kept creeping into his thoughts, even now at the most inappropriate time.

The air was warm though it was late, the night was pitched but you wouldn't know it given the lights around the property - police flood lights to help forensics, camera lights from the press trying to angle a view and the porch lights of neighbours awoken by the chaos and tragedy of the evening. Mike lifted the tape and entered the crime scene. He saw Womack, a junior detective, talking to a uniform, "What we got? Walk me through it?"

"Report of double homicide - married couple. Only erm it's not, the wife she's hanging in there. Just. Down at County."

"We got the weapon?"

"Yeah kitchen knife, their own looks like, it’s with forensics. We think the perp didn't originally intend on killing them."

Mike frowned at the premature assessment before he moved deeper into the house. The dining table was set with food, but the chairs were overturned, blood pooled on the floor, interrupted by the plastic covered corpse waiting for retrieval. The house was nice - a typical, pretty, suburban home, the walls and shelves adorned with memories of what seemed to be a happy couple. All of it tainted now with their blood.

"You can see a frenzied assault." Womack motioned to the splatter covered walls.

"Looks like they were sitting when they were attacked. What? Do the husband first? Catch him unaware then go for wife, but there's a chase," Mike's eyes following blood trail which led away to another pool. "So wounds aren't as deep. Any disturbance would have put them on alert. Any signs of forced entry?"

"No. But both front and back door were unlocked. You think perp entered and waited for them?"

"Maybe or maybe they were invited in?" Mike gestured to the third plate setting.

"Assumed that was for the witness."

"Witness?"

"Yeah," Womack flicked back through her notebook, "A friend claims to have arrived after, called 911. Stamell took them to the station"

\---X---

"I've told you this already." Bryce said through gritted teeth, her nails raking over the skin at the back of her neck. She was trying her best to maintain some sort of composure though at any moment she felt she would either crumble to nothing or scream with fury.

"Just explain to me again why you needed to call Mr Lawson four times?"

She let out a sigh, "To tell him I was running late."

"For a meeting."

"For dinner."

"Because you're friends?"

"Yes."

"Not to argue over your parole violation?" The young detective, crossed his arms in smug satisfaction believing he'd caught her out, dug up the 'truth'. But Bryce hadn't lied. She'd told him the truth, all of it, over and over.

She told him that she'd taken Kevin and Ronnie up on their offer of dinner, she'd gotten a job - it was temporary and part time, a receptionist at a car rental place, but it was work and meant that she was no longer at risk of returning to prison. She was making her way to their house, already needing to take two buses, when there had been an accident causing a diversion, she missed her connection. She'd called several times to explain, Kevin joking that she was trying to avoid Ronnie's lasagna. He seemed happy, not frightened - no clue of what was going to happen.

Bryce was over an hour late when she finally arrived, the night sky already closing in. She knocked on the door, but it was ajar, music escaping from the breach. She expected Kevin and Ronnie to be laughing, talking over a second glass of wine and the cooling food, but there was just blood. Thick, dark, almost black. She rushed to Kevin, could see him lying, unmoving even from the doorway. She checked for a pulse - it was clear he was already gone, his shirt drenched and ripped by whatever monster had visited him. She reached for her cell when she heard a splutter, a strained gulp for breath, only to discover Ronnie face down in a crimson lake. The cell now on speaker as she turned Ronnie over, mumbling before a final struggling gasp. Bryce started CPR whilst navigating the operator's question. She didn't stop until first responders arrived. She couldn't, fuelled on adrenaline, not allowing a moment to reflect on the horror in front of her, for if she did she would have broken in two.

And now here in this police station, with the smug man-child assuming things, judging her in her borrowed hoody and sweatpants. The resentment of being thought of a criminal again, of being wrongly accused, began to surface. Emotions that had been buried in a shallow grave now fully risen and haunting her. But she was angry too for Kevin and Ronnie, wasting time on her when the real killer was out there.

"Am I under arrest?" Bryce's anger finally snapping through the detective's repetitive line of questioning.

"Not yet." His arms still folded but a pout at his lips, sulking like a child that she'd kiboshed his power trip.

"I'd like to take a break, go to the rest room."

"I have more-"

"If I'm not under arrest, I'm here voluntarily. I wanna clean myself up, call my sister, get some air." Though they let her change her bloody clothes, more for evidence than care for her wellbeing, she was only given paper towels to wipe down the blood and much of it was still there, dried on her skin, the patches making it feel tight and sharp when she moved. But the thing that turned her stomach was the smell - the pungent odour of decay which covered her.

"Okay. We can a have a break."

"Thank you."

\---X---

Mike and Womack entered bullpen and were immediately met by Stamell.

"Where's our witness?"

"You mean suspect." Stamell grinned handing a thick file over, exchanged for a puzzle look from the two other detectives.

"Our witness is a felon. Convicted for manslaughter. The vic was her PO and he'd just reported her for violations."

Mike flicked through the file and stopped at the mugshot; his stomach lurched. "Is this right?"

"Hey, I know her." Womack exclaimed.

"You do?" Mike's mouth now dry.

"She's the Hedge Fund Hangover. Y'know she crashed a car killing Mayor's goddaughter. 5 years ago. It was all over the news, don't you remember?"

"I remember the case. Are you sure this is her?" Womack reached over and thumbed through the file pointed to the details that revealed the truth she already knew. "You okay Mike?"

"Yeah just give me a minute." He excused himself and sat at his desk, he needed to steel himself before he spoke to her. Fuck he felt a fool. At least now he knew why Bryce had rejected him - cons don't date cops. Her face when she discovered his academy graduation photo - that was the moment things changed, that's when it soured. That made sense but murder. He'd been to the scene, something like that was only created by someone violent and hateful; he couldn't believe that she was capable of such an act.

\---X---

Bryce put the lid of the toilet down, the only privacy offered was the locked cubicle in mostly clean but aging restroom of the precinct house. She took a deep breath, tried to swallow the bile that was bubbling up in her throat. How the hell had she got here? Kevin was happy and alive only hours ago and the young detective had made it very clear she considered was prime suspect in his demise. Nauseous and upset, she needed to call Addison, she needed a lawyer.

"Bryce where are you?" an urgency in her sister's voice that was rife with worry.

"The police station. I er Kevin-"

"Was killed! I know. Fuck Bryce. What happened?"

"What do you mean you know?"

"It's all over the news. Bryce your face is all over the news. They're saying you killed those people."

"Addison, listen to me, I did nothing wrong. I'm going to fix this." she appeared confident, her words reassuring her older sister as she hung up, but it was a thin veneer ready to crack.

Surely the boy detective wouldn't have released information yet, she hadn't been charged. Bryce searched the local news on her cell and there front and centre was her picture: 'Hedge Fund Hangover Strikes Again'. She clicked the story, there was not only an image of a five year old mugshot but also one of her leaving the courthouse at her trial and another of her leaving Kevin and Ronnie's, covered in blood. She knew a crowd had amassed outside their house but hadn't really taken notice that it included the press, her mind overrun with thoughts about her dying friends. But of course they would have been there, vultures that track police scanners, pay for tips. One of them must have recognised her, concocted a story of their own liking.

The air in Bryce lungs escaped and she struggled to breath as her chest tightened and strained under the weight of what lay before her. How could this happen again? Clearly everyone in the world had already decided she was guilty. What chance did she stand of convincing people when they had already passed their judgements? She refused to go back to prison for something she didn't do. She couldn't. But she couldn't stay here - no faith in the legal system that had failed her before. There was only one thing to do. Run.

\---X---

The three detectives sat in the interrogation room trying to figure out their next move. The anger and confusion over the disappearance of their suspect had cooled if not fully dissipated. Stamell was clearly pissed that he'd been deceived and outsmarted - youth and arrogance close companions. The source of Mike's fury had been more complicated - he had to manage the shit show Stamell had helped create, eventually he would need to take him to task, but Bryce Clayton had only been there as a witness and no major procedures had been broken. It was the press that had lit the fuse to this catastrophe, he was in no doubt they had been the reason she'd absconded. Every screen was covered with her image and now they needed to get her back for everyone's sake. It was like fate was mocking him, her face on every monitor, sad and hardened in the photographs they showed but in his mind he saw her sweet smile, her warmth and that caused more emotions than Mike was able to untangle. He just needed to focus, to get the team to focus.

"What do we actually know?"

"Ferro she was convicted of manslaughter."

"Vehicular manslaughter. Big leap from drink driving to murder."

"Pick up a lot skills in prison." Stamell said wryly.

"She has got means, motive and opportunity" Womack chimed in.

"She recalled 911, did CPR not the actions of a killer."

"Maybe she wanted to cover her tracks, throw us off the scent." Stamell countered.

"Maybe she actually regretted it." Womack suggested.

God they were like a tag team, but he couldn't deny their logic. Mike buried his head in his hands this was all kinds of fucked up - personally and professionally. She'd disappeared on their watch and there'd be hell to pay for everyone. Womack, more astute than Stamell, could see her mentor's anguish, though she didn't really know the full extent.

"Mike, why run? Those are actions of guilt. We have to treat her a prime suspect. We have to focus our efforts on her recovery."

The lead detective nodded in agreement, "let's get to work."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Bryce on the run. Mike must put his feelings aside and do everything in his power to bring her in. Evading the police Bryce needs to decide how to clear her name.

The fluorescent strip bulb buzzed overhead which only seemed to emphasis the unnaturalness of the harsh light. Mike couldn't imagine the cheap, all-purpose store would be a favourite of Bryce’s, but it was open 24 hours and stocked with what she needed. They had tracked her ATM card to the store, though there had been a delay in getting a warrant for her financials even with a push. She'd used the card to buy clothes then emptied her account, there wasn't much in it, barely 100 dollars once she'd made the other purchases. But now she had cash and couple of hours head start.

Stamell was currently looking at CCTV footage for her next movements, though Mike guessed she'd hopped on the subway - the entrance in full view of the store entrance. Yes, she'd be tracked but she could get to other areas of the city fast and then disappear. Mike had already put in a request for footage from city transport, he just needed a full and recent physical description. That's where Womack came in, currently, with the help of the clerk, she was obtaining a like for like for everything Bryce had bought. She called her superior over, a selection of clothing laid out on the counter in front of them. Mike huffed a laugh, he knew Bryce was smart when he met her, the way she spoke - her opinion, her wit - he liked that about her, there had been a world weariness too which he mistook as the result of a bad day and could now more easily be placed. Of course, all this didn't help the current predicament. In front of him were three outfits – yes, she'd bought one pair of cheap generic sneakers and one pair of jeans and white t-shirt but then a grey and black hoodie a red plaid shirt too, one blue baseball cap, one black! All of them were vague and nondescript, worn by countless of people but the question was which would she have chosen? Instead of one description Mike would be forced to give three, no doubt leading to extra leads, dead ends and more difficult to tracking on CCTV. He now had to hope that her cell would ping, and they'd get a rough idea of her location - though that had been turned off almost immediately. Yes, Bryce was very smart indeed.

Before identifying the store, Mike had gone through Bryce's background. He had learned more about it in the last few hours than he had in the whole night he'd spent with her yet that had been their bargain neither wanting to dwell on the past just focus on the moment with each other. From a single parent family, her mother had died when Bryce was in her late teens, left her an her and older sibling to fend for themselves. Addision, the older sister, had married and settled down - an upstanding citizen by all accounts. Bryce had gotten a full ride to college, top of her classes, started a promising career in finance when she'd drunkenly and stupidly gotten behind the wheel and ruined her life and taken three others. Mike had scrutinised the past but even with the cold truth in front of him he was finding it difficult to reconcile with the brutal murder she'd was accused of. He drew his hand over his face, needing to start thinking if her only as a fugitive or else recuse himself. There was a job to be done. 

\---X---

The poor light flickered and hummed as Bryce finally washed the last of the dried blood from her skin. Her skin goose fleshed from the cold as she stripped down in the locked washroom. She used the ill-fitting clothing from the police station to rub herself down, she bought some generic soap and she was thankful to rid herself of the pungent smell of death. She needed to use a little on her hair too, chemically and harsh but welcomed. When she finally felt clean, she dressed in the newly purchased clothes, they were cheap and pretty poor quality, didn't fit much better than the generic sweats the young detective had thrown her way, but they would work. She selected a black hoodie over her jeans and t-shirts, she had alternatives that she could change up later. Combing her knotted hair through with her fingers (she wished she had a comb) she put it up under a baseball cap and let the length dangle in a ponytail at the back. Then she glanced in the mirror, it was the best she could do, and it may just work long enough for her to concoct a plan. She threw the other clothing and her own purse into a basic black rucksack, one she had purchased with cash from a second store - a bodega, a couple of stops away from the low budget department store. Hoping that it would take longer for them to trace second purchase. She bought the soap there too, a bottle of water and energy bars and a burner phone. Now light on cash and ideas.

She was clueless to what she was doing. Yes, she was bright enough to evade the police for a time but a convicted felon, suspected of double homicide would invite interest and resources that she could only avoid for so long. She knew that judgement had been past and needed them to consider another suspect so they would leave her alone, but they had no inclination - it was about the appearance of justice rather than truth the system was interested in. The only way was to find the suspect herself but how? She racked her brains, did Kevin have any problem cases? Had Ronnie been having a hard time a work? Had there been break ins in the area? Nothing was ever mentioned to Bryce and anything obvious would have been brought to the attention of the police, surely? Where to start? What to do? Bryce pinched the bridge of her nose and scrunched her eyes, fought away negativity, fought away the overwhelming task and hopelessness and tried to focus on what she could do.

She made a call.

"Hello," voice quiet on the other end.

"Hey, Ellie sweetie it's Aunty Bry. You gotta do me a favour and stay really quiet okay? And calm. You on your own?"

"Yeah, I'm in my room."

"Okay, good, good. How's your mom?"

"There's people here looking for you. Police." Bryce wasn't surprised she guessed as much, which is why she hadn't called Addison directly.

"I know sweetie, it's all just a big misunderstanding. You need to go get your mom for me, don't tell anyone I'm calling. Can you do that?"

"Yeah wait a minute."

"I love you." The line went silent, a knot forming in Bryce's stomach as the minutes seemed to stretch on.

Ellie, not quite a teenager was smart and though her parents had said very little about what was currently happening it was easy for her to figure out. If the uniformed officers in her living room in the middle of the night didn’t raise suspicion, the questions she overheard before being told to go back to bed were enough to know it was linked to her aunt. She had access to the internet. She saw her Aunty Bry plastered over the screen - details of her in the past, claiming things she'd done now. Ellie didn't know what to believe, her aunt had spent 5 years in prison for killing people and now she was accused again, but her aunty was kind and funny and really loved her and Ellie knew in her heart to do as she asked. It was still early but not ridiculously and she pretended to be getting ready for school, asked her mother about helping with her history project - the one she'd completed and submitted the previous week. Her mother looking at her before excusing herself and following her oldest daughter upstairs to her room. There on the bed, the pink glittery cell was live.

"Bryce?" she asked in a hushed whisper, motioned to Ellie to guard the door.

"Hi. Look before you ask, I'm okay. I'm safe. How are you? El says the cops are there?"

"Yeah they came about a while ago. Where are you?"

"Nowhere. Just trying to figure stuff out. God, I don't know what to do. I need to get them to look somewhere else, at someone else then I'll turn myself in. Do you think you could get in touch with Sara Barnes?"

"Your lawyer, yeah I could, you think she could help?"

"I don't know, but she knows our side and she doesn't think I'm a monster. It's worth a shot."

"Okay I can call you."

"No, I'll call when I can. I should go-"

"Wait, someone called for you, just before the cops showed up. He said he could help?"

"Who?"

"Someone who worked with Ronnie, he left his number."

Bryce copied the information Addison and offered her love before hanging up. She needed to move. Whilst walking, she was digesting who would want to help, she thought it could be some opportunistic reporter, but it was all she had. She walked aimlessly, the peak of her cap covering her face, wanting to get lost in an emerging commuter crowd hoping not to be recognised. She needed to lay low, somewhere other than public toilets. She obviously couldn't go home and there was no one else she trusted. She wanted an update on what the cops had but couldn't risk turning her own cell on (the burner basic not having internet access). She wandered passed store fronts, she saw a small tv on the counter of one, began browsing to try and avoid attention, she listened to the news bulletin and a heart lurched when a familiar face appeared.

\---X---

Mike stepped up on to the makeshift podium to face the crowd of reporters. None of this felt right, deep in the pit of his stomach his concerns and misgivings knotted and churned but he had been backed in the proverbial corner and had little choice. As far as the press were concerned Bryce Clayton was already guilty and the story was about how she was able to abscond and how much of a danger she was to the people of LA. Mike knew the case was far from over but her actions hadn't helped her case and he needed back her with them, in custody asap. He flattened the paper he had written out his notes and began:

"Good morning, I'm Detective Michelangelo Ferro, I will be making a short statement before answering any questions. Yesterday evening Kevin and Ronnie Lawson were brutally attacked in their home. Tragically Mr Lawson lost his life whilst Mrs Lawson remains in a critical condition. I can confirm that during the course of our investigation we interviewed Bryce Clayton, who many of you know as the Hedge Fund Hangover, I can also confirm that during that time Ms Clayton left the station and is currently evading the police. Ms Clayton is currently our prime suspect and it is crucial that she is captured. We believe that she is wearing jeans and a black or grey hoodie, possibly red plaid shirt and either a blue or black baseball cap, full descriptions, latest images and sketches have been disseminated to you. We would ask people if they have any information pertaining to the location of Ms Clayton to contact police immediately. And if she is listening, I would like to address Ms Clayton directly." Mike looked directly at the camera, imagining she was the other side of screen staring at him. "Bryce your actions aren't helping anyone, at least of all yourself, it would be better and safer for everyone if you were to surrender. I promise that we will listen to you. We all want to know the truth of what happened. Questions? Yes you."

"How did Bryce Clayton escape?"

"At the time Ms Clayton wasn't under arrest or indeed not considered a suspect, she was free to leave. Another, you."

"Is she armed and dangerous?"

"We have no information suggesting she is a threat to anyone, though Ms Clayton is intelligent and capable, she is wanted in relation to a murder so the public shouldn't make any attempts to approach her. Please let the police do their job."

"Does Ms Clayton's conviction of vehicular manslaughter impact your approach to this case?"

"Bryce Clayton will be treated as any other fugitive."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryce and Mike's paths cross once more as she puts her plan into action.

Relaxation washed over Mike as soon as he opened the front door - tension seemed to evaporate, burdens fell from his shoulders. It was amazing the power of stepping into one’s home. Home - a sanctuary, a place to shelter from the word, a reprieve from concerns. Though of course his burdens were still very much real, just hidden from sight for a spell. His eyes half shut as he placed his keys on the shelving unit. He needed a few hours to himself - to shower, to change, hopefully get a couple of hours sleep. It was middle of the day and the Californian sun was high and hot and he was exhausted. He'd been up through the night on the trail on LA's most wanted fugitive. The trail had gone cold, all clues spent and now the only thing left was to filter through dead end tips and comb CCTV. Work others could do. Mike kept his cell on loud, a pager too - he was to be alerted if anything of substance was found. He rolled his head trying to creak his neck, let out a long sigh, just about to step towards the bathroom when he felt the cold metal muzzle of a gun next to his skin

\---X---

Bryce's stomach was twisting, forget doing flips it felt like a contortionist. This was not the best idea she'd ever had, far too risky but it was a plan and she had committed to it. She knocked on the door, three sharp raps and waited.

"Can I help you?" the voice of the older gentleman queried. His hair greying, long soft curls brushing the tops of his ears, a pencil tucked behind one, though there were three more in the breast pocket of his overalls along with a note pad and pair of glasses.

"Yes, hello. Sorry to bother you but I need... I thought you could help me?" Bryce was polite and offered a sweet smile, trying her best to be natural though her stomach was summersaulting.

"Yes?" He cocked his head to the side, "Do I know you?"

Now for the real show, "Yes, well sort of." The super squinted, removed his glasses from his overalls and put them on for a closer inspection. "I'm dating Mike, Mike Ferro in 3B. Maybe you've seen me around? I've been spending a lot of time here lately." Bryce gave a coy smile. The man smiled in return, gave a nod seemingly agreeing that indeed that was how he recognised the pretty woman in front of him - not that she was currently headline news.

"So how is it I can help you?"

"Well, this is really embarrassing but I've locked myself out...I'd call Mike but he is the middle of a big case and... god I'm so stupid."

"And you want me to let you in?"

"Would you mind? I hate to be a pain."

"Sure thing." He smiled as he closed the door to his apartment then led the way to Mike's place. The key was in the lock but before turning, he paused to faced Bryce.

"I shouldn't really, I mean I should call Mr Ferro."

"Oh, I know but he is awfully busy, like I said I would have called myself...but if you need to..." mentally Bryce crossed her fingers.

"He knows you're here?"

"Of course. Would I help if you saw some ID?" calling his bluff.

"No, nah you're okay."

"Thank you."

Bryce practically fell against the door as she closed it behind her, heart pounding through her ribs, hardly believing that her plan had worked. So far, so good. But that was just the first hurdle. She rested her head against the wooden door, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, allowed herself a minute of composure.

Now for the next stage.

She didn't know how long she had so she needed to be quick. She rushed to the bedroom, scrambled through the dresser rifling through Mike's clothes - nothing. To the nightstand - drawer after drawer. Finally, the last one, under socks and sundries, was the unmistakable coldness of metal, the glare of steel. She didn't know if Mike would have a gun in apartment, of course he would have one for work but that would be on him and she was unsure if there'd be another, whether it would be at home, she couldn't recall a gun the night they met. All she had was the memory of too many cop shows and a shred of hope. She turned the gun over in her hands - the body silver, the handle inlaid with mother of pearl. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so deadly. Nothing like the black things that seemed standard issue. She clicked out the cylinder, found four bullets in the chamber - not full but it didn't matter. She just needed to know there was ammunition. She closed the drawers and went to kitchen; the coffee pot was empty but there was coke in the fridge, and she was desperate for caffeine. She gulped as she picked at cold cuts - she wasn't very hungry, her energy bars had been enough, but her body wanted real food. A few minutes later she found her spot, she huddled down at the side of the large display unit that dominated the dining space - it was at the front of apartment but huge, it would hide her if she huddled between the side and the large pot plant next to it. It wasn't perfect but she only needed a few minutes grace. So, she made herself small and waited.

\---X----

The cold muzzle seared into Mike's skin, he froze on the spot, his hands automatically raised at the side of his head, his palms open.

"Don't move."

He knew the voice instantly, a tremble disrupting the soft femininity. "I'm not."

"Don't." More pressure applied to base of skull to ensure compliance. He felt the delicate fingers unclip his service weapon from its holster, a clunk as it was put down, his handcuffs, then the small hand began to pat him down, found his cell in his jacket pocket, no clunk though - did she put them in her own? Then she was at his hips.

"I've missed you too." He tried to keep his tone light despite the dramatic shift in their relationship and his current predicament. She ignored him.

"Anything here?"

"If you insist."

"Wallet." She didn't remove it.

"Bedroom."

Mike made his way through the door and stopped a foot away from the bed, the cold metal pushed deeper into his flesh as he did so.

"Where do you want me?" Mike more flippant than playful, yes there was a gun at his neck, but he didn't want to show he was intimidated, didn't want to show fear. Not that he thought Bryce would do anything, but you never knew what someone would do when they had been backed into a corner, even the sweetest person was capable of lashing out. Then again, he didn't really know Bryce at all.

"Turn around. Slowly."

Mike did as he was told, turning on his heels so he was face to face with her. And there she was. He had been longing to see her since their night together, longing to have her back in his bedroom. Even after seeing her mugshot, her criminal record, he hadn't been able to convince himself that his need to see her was purely in a professional compacity. She looked tired yet manic, teetering on the edge and holding his Smith & Wesson in his face (he recognised his gun instantly). The look in her eye a concoction of hate and anger, of fear and sadness - a very dangerous combination. Her hair was swept back, and she was wearing the cheap, ill-fitting clothing she'd purchased earlier but she was still beautiful. Mike felt the urge to knock the gun from her hands and kiss her lips. He needed to pull himself together, the women was a criminal, she'd broken into his home, she was pointing a gun in his face and he was thinking of the taste of her lips, the softness of her flesh underneath his. He did the best he could to suppress his emotions, bury them and try to remember his goal.

"Well?" he asked.

She held up his handcuffs, "Cuff yourself to the bed frame, then we talk."

Mike took the cuffs and shuffled to the headboard, put the metal shackle on his wrist, it felt sharp but didn't sting as much as the barrel of a gun. Mike could have tried something, he was bigger, stronger, had training but Bryce was the killer and honestly, he wanted to hear her out.

He rattled his now restrained hands against the headboard, half leaning against the frame he looked over at Bryce, she was perched on a chair in the corner, gun still in her hand, pointed fiercely at Mike.

Mike looked almost identical to the night they met - his suit crumpled, hair messy from a hard day's work. Bryce had guessed, hell, he had inferred, that work was pressured and now she knew he was responsible for tracking down fugitives, for bringing people to justice and she was intent on helping him.

Mike smiled a small smile, not quite genuine, enough to keep her on side, keep her from using the gun. "So, you wanted to talk." Bryce swallowed hard and nodded. "Y'know there are easier ways? You could have called. You have my number."

"So, you could track my cell?"

"To find where you are sure. But I know where you are now don't I?"

"No one else does and I'll be gone before you can tell them."

"That right? And where are you going to go Bryce? What's the plan? C'mon Bryce - you've no money, no friends, you can't go to Addison." Bryce's stare colder than the metal of the cuffs and gun could ever be. "Oh, I know all about Addison, all about -"

"-you don't know anything." she spat.

"Sure I do, I got a file this thick," holding his fingers an inch apart, "on my desk." Bryce shook her head, dropped her eyes and some of her resolve.

"Fuck you," her voice a mere whisper, then her eyes shot up, suddenly a feral creature, seething, voice building and full of hate. "I didn't kill anyone then, I didn't kill anyone now...you, you people that's your problem you all _know_. God forbid someone actually uncover the truth."

She was angry; she was in pain.

Mike softened, "I want the truth Bryce."

The room filled with silence, both trying to reconcile the myriad of emotions and thoughts.

"How's Ronnie?"

"Mrs Lawson? Critical but stable, they say she could pull through."

Bryce nodded quietly, "She was hurt so bad. She wasn't breathing...so much blood." She pressed the heel of her palms to her eyes, the gun now loose in her fingers.

"CPR saved her life."

"Couldn't save Kev though."

"Why did you go over to the Lawsons?"

"I've told the cops all this, that detective. You must have heard the tape."

"Yeah but I want to hear it from you?" He did, it was typical procedure to go over testimony trying to shake loose inconsistencies, but Mike just wanted to hear her voice, look into her eyes.

"He invited me for dinner."

"Your parole officer?"

"Believe it or not we were friends. I'm a likeable person." She huffed, pulled her lips to smirk, which felt like a kick to the stomach. "I was late, there was traffic and when I arrived it had already happened."

"And the crash?" The events surrounding the car accident five years ago weren't pertinent to the case, but he wanted her side. "You were convicted, you served time."

"The mayor was gunning for me, the size of his legal team, the fucking press conferences and interviews. I took a deal, I didn't have a choice."

"If you were innocent?"

"Are you really that naive?"

"So, what really happened?"

"I was out celebrating."

"Drinking?"

"Drinking yes. With a couple of girls from work, they knew Denise Keller...the mayor's goddaughter. They were chatting and I was tired, so I said I'd wait in my car, nap before we called an Uber. Then I wake up in the hospital.” Bryce shrugged her shoulders, before continuing with the story of her downfall, “One of them must have taken my keys and tried to drive. Crashed head on with another car. I was the only survivor. No one wanted to believe me and since we were thrown from the car, they didn't know who was driving."

"Couldn't forensics look at where you landed?"

"I don't know, maybe. No one did."

"Why not fight?"

"With what? I had medical bills, Addison's house was on the line. Everyone had made up their minds. I had a choice - five years or forever." A quiver of sadness penetrated her words, but she didn't break, she didn't falter. "But I won't take the blame again, not when the real murderer is out there."

"What do you want Bryce?"

"I want you to promise me to investigate the murder."

"I am."

"No, you're chasing me."

"Bryce be fair you have to see how it looks...come to the station, let me take you in. We can say you surrendered, no one will get hurt. Then I can redeploy resources."

"Could you? Would they let you? Spend taxpayers’ money when you already have the killer behind bars."

"Bryce." He was pleading, he wanted to help, he wanted so much to save from all this, from herself. Bryce straighter a strange smile played at her lips.

"When I saw you on TV, I thought it was a cruel joke, like seriously what had I done to piss the cosmos off y'know? But then I thought you were a good guy and maybe you'd listen, you'd help me."

"I am. I will."

"And you want to catch the killer?"

"Yes."

"Then let me go."

Mike closed his eyes, shook his head. "I can't-"

"-I have a lead. Someone who knows something."

"Who?"

"He...I'd rather not say. But let me go meet him."

"What makes you think they are real? Could be fake, could be a journalist wanting to corner you, some vigilante...Bryce I'm serious give me the details and I'll go check it out."

"No. He will leave if it is anyone else. And he's real, he knew stuff."

"Or maybe he is smart and you're clutching at straws."

"No. I'll be careful. I promise I will call after."

"And if you don't learn anything will you hand yourself in?" Bryce's silence was answer enough. "I can't help you if you run Bryce." Mike leaned forward, wrist straining. "Let me help you."

"I'm sorry. I'm not a bad person." Her tears finally broke through.

"I know. Bryce, please undo the cuffs and let me help you."

"I'm sorry."

\--X--

Mike never did get a couple of hours sleep, he spent best the part of one cuffed to his bed and not in any way he had ever fantasied. He hadn't even been able to free himself when Bryce left his apartment, he had been rescued half an hour later by Mr Spitaro, the super. Apparently, Bryce had given him some BS about a leaky tap and how he was on an important call so to delay Spitaro's response. The face of the old man when he discovered Mike on the bed, full of guilt that he had fallen for Bryce, Mike discovered that he'd been the one to let her in. She was so convincing. Mike didn't have time for apologies and making him feel better, he had somewhere to be. Quickly, he washed and threw on clean clothes before jumping in his car.

Now he was taking the steps to the suburban home two at a time, the door opened by a uniformed officer standing guard. He was directed to the living room to the woman waiting for him. She looked a little like Bryce, her hair shorter and a different shade, face a little plumper but the same shape and she had the same eyes. Sparking and beautiful, tired and sad.

"Addison?" The women gave a cut nod in reply, "I'm Mike Ferro, I'm lead detective on the Lawson case. Can I sit?" She nodded again, gestured to the chair opposite. "Addison, I need you to tell me where Bryce is."

"I don't know."

"I think you do. I think you may know something. As resourceful as Bryce is, I can't believe she hasn't reached out."

"I haven't seen her. The cops have been here all day."

Mike smiled, "Addison I know Bryce. I met her before this. We were...friends." Addison expression shifted, deciding if she should believe him or not. "She came to me, she told me she is meeting up with someone." Then there was a flash, she knew. "I need to know who that is. I need to find her. She could be in danger."

"If she came to you and wanted you to know she would have told you."

"Bryce is tired and scared and not thinking straight."

"My sister is the smartest, bravest person I know."

"I don't doubt that. But she can't do this on her own."

"She doesn't trust cops."

"But she trusts some random guy claiming to know about a double homicide?"

"He knew how to contact her, who she was, that she was friends with Ronnie and Kevin. He knew she was going to dinner."

"It was in the press."

"No, it wasn't, not all of it."

"He called here?"

"Yes. He didn't give a name, just said he knew she hadn't hurt them."

"When did he call? What time?"

"After 10, closer to 11, before Bryce called from the station. Please help her."

"I will."


End file.
